


At Its Finest

by servecobwebheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 2007, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Ryden, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:04:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon gave Ryan a quizzical look and turned to pick up the two pages Ryan had just put down.  “When the moon fell in love with the sun,” Brendon read to himself out loud, “all was golden in the sky when the day met the night."</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Its Finest

**Author's Note:**

> This is fluffy, really. I discussed it a bit with rosevestatthedisco on tumblr.

When the band came home from Seattle, Brendon couldn't sleep. He stayed awake for an entire night, getting out of bed to pace a bit, getting back in to lay in silence. He didn't feel very tired, but knew he should get some sleep, and he knew why it wasn't working for him—he didn't have Ryan next to him.

Brendon texted Ryan at four thirty in the morning, the simple word, “Hey,” and wasn't surprised that Ryan didn't respond.

He laid under the sheets of his bed while the sun rose and the traffic picked up outside his window. The brightness and the noise made him even less comfortable.

Everything was just the way he left it in the apartment, nothing unfamiliar or surprising, though he was lonely. He half expected to hear Ryan's voice at any given moment. The couple days they spent together in Seattle had already gotten Brendon used to it, to Ryan talking to and loving him and him alone. Brendon enjoyed Ryan's constant presence, and was missing it after only a few hours.

Brendon made coffee and stayed in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He didn't have anything to do, or anything to prepare for, and it was nice to have the break, but he wished he could sleep. He got more and more tired as the morning wore on, even after he had a couple cups of coffee filled with sugar.

At midday, he texted Ryan again, asking if he wanted to come over for lunch. Brendon didn't have it in him to put effort into getting dressed and going out, and he knew Ryan wouldn't care if he came over. Yet Ryan never responded. Brendon sighed, partly worried, partly irritated. He curled up on the couch and came to the conclusion that Ryan was probably with Keltie, or talking to her, just to make up for leaving her in the middle of the night a few days ago. It made him feel achy and nearly miserable on the inside, that Ryan would be with someone else instead of him, but it was only a petty thing. Maybe Ryan was texting her, calling her, but he flew across the country for Brendon instead of staying with her. The thought gave Brendon some comfort as he hugged a pillow to his chest and stared at the phone.

Brendon ate alone and returned his sister’s call that he'd missed two days ago. He talked about how crazy it was to be onstage in front of so many people, how nice it was to not be on a tour bus, and how much he missed staying home sometimes.

At seven p.m., Brendon changed his clothes into a loose white button up, with the sleeves rolled over his elbows, and a pair of jeans. He did this for no reason at all; he was only going to Ryan's place, with hopes he would be able to stay the night there. In the car, he prepared himself for Ryan not to be home, for someone else to be there with him. He could come up with something about guitars or having left one of his belongings at Ryan's apartment if he had to. It would be fine.

Ryan lived no more than ten minutes away from Brendon, and Brendon knew how to get to Ryan's specific unit by heart. He knocked on the door and bounced on the balls of his feet a bit, mood lightened at the thought of seeing Ryan again. Ryan answered the door a few seconds later, fingers curling around the doorframe as he saw Brendon. "Hey, B," Ryan said. Brendon immediately noticed something not quite right in Ryan's voice, though he recognized what it was. Aside from the visible clues that Ryan was exhausted, Brendon could tell from how his voice was quieter, a higher pitch, almost sounding scared. Brendon wondered what was going on, if they were both going through the same thing without each other.

The apartment behind Ryan was dark, the blinds closed and the only light from the dim dusk outside. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry," Brendon said.

"No, not at all," Ryan replied, leaning against the door to make it creak.

"Well, are you gonna invite me in, then, or are you too busy . . .?" Brendon asked.

"Oh, uh, yeah, no—yeah, come in," Ryan said. He moved out of the doorway to let Brendon pass inside, and closed the door behind them.

There was a carrier bag dumped right outside the kitchen, which Brendon knew as the one Ryan had brought to Seattle from New York. The TV was off, and all the guitars remained hanging on his walls. The place seemed virtually untouched, yet Ryan seemed mentally overtaxed, which was mysterious. Brendon hadn't heard of any news that would be affecting Ryan at the moment, but it had only been a day since they last saw each other.

Ryan didn't even acknowledge Brendon's presence again, only gestured vaguely towards the living room for Brendon to make himself at home. Brendon didn't sit down, but watched Ryan walk out of the room. He waited for Ryan to return, and when he didn't, he went back to the bedroom, where Ryan had gone. "Ryan?"

The bedroom was a mess—there were clothes scattered across the floor, an empty CD case and empty soda bottle amongst them. A dresser drawer was open and about to completely fall out. A few DVD cases were clumsily thrown across the surface of the same piece of furniture. The nightstand on Ryan's side of the bed was cluttered with books, pens, and loose pieces of paper; there was a lamp in the corner and a book opened on top of it. The sheets and comforter of the bed were tangled and crumpled, finally with Ryan in the middle with a notepad and pen in his lap. Brendon approached the nightstand and picked the book up off the lamp. "Don't keep this here," Brendon said. "You'll burn the place down."

Ryan looked up at him and shrugged, seeming completely indifferent. He looked back down at the paper in front of him and considered for a moment before tearing out two pages, which he placed on the nightstand with a groan. "What's wrong, babe?" Brendon asked.

"Just—I've been trying to write the same song all day and it's all bad."

Brendon crawled on the bed and sat next to Ryan, leaning back comfortably against the pillows. Ryan didn’t look at him, but looked down at the blank paper in front of him. “You’re a beautiful writer, you know that,” Brendon said.

“Well, thanks, but I can’t get these words the right way and I just really want this one to be perfect.”

“Ryan,” Brendon started, “you’re overthinking it by now. Everyone else out there is gonna love whatever you write.”

“I just feel like the lyrics are shitty when it really matters to me.”

“I don’t think your lyrics are ever shitty.”

“But you don’t think they’re perfect, either,” Ryan said.

“They’re never perfect until they’re in a song, but that doesn’t mean that they’re bad.”

“Well I want this one to be perfect _for you_.”

Brendon blinked at him. “For me?”

“Yeah, all of it.” Ryan pointed to the torn out pages sitting on the nightstand. “Read it, I guess. I’m not happy with it, but . . .”

Brendon gave Ryan a quizzical look and turned to pick up the two pages Ryan had just put down. “ _When the moon fell in love with the sun_ ,” Brendon read to himself out loud, “ _all was golden in the sky when the day met the night_ ” Ryan looked at Brendon with raised eyebrows. “Would it be better if I didn’t read it out loud, or—”

“No,” Ryan hastily cut in. “It sounds better with your voice than it did in my head.”

“ _When the sun found the moon_ ,” Brendon continued, “ _she was drinking tea in a garden, under the green umbrella trees in the middle of summer_ ” Brendon looked up at Ryan with a smile, not as powerful or radiant as it usually was because of how tired he felt. He read the whole thing back to Ryan, and he couldn’t contain his smile from growing. Ryan began smiling back, Brendon’s contagious emotions getting the best of him. Brendon set the papers back on the table. “That was really sweet,” Brendon beamed. “I don’t know how you would’ve made it even better.”

“I’m really trying to say how I feel. Maybe I don’t think I’m good enough, I don’t know.”

“Thank you for that. And _you’re_ perfect, baby.” Brendon leaned over the space between them to connect his lips with Ryan’s. Ryan’s kiss was familiar; calming, and it smoothed out the slight pain in Brendon’s head from being so tired. Ryan gently put a hand to Brendon’s cheek when they pulled apart, and Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m just madly in love with you, don’t you know that? And I don't know if any words will ever be able to describe that,” Ryan said. Brendon put his arms around Ryan's neck and kissed him again.

“I love you too,” he said, and buried his face in Ryan's neck. Ryan lightly brushed his fingers down Brendon's spine, and Brendon shivered, nuzzling his body into Ryan's side. Ryan looked down at Brendon's closed eyes, his chin and Brendon's hair, and laid them both back on the mattress. Brendon exhaled heavily, his head now on Ryan's chest and Ryan's arms around him. The frames of his glasses pressed uncomfortably into Ryan's sternum and the bridge of Brendon's nose, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to move.

“Are you falling asleep already? It's early,” Ryan said.

“I couldn't sleep at all last night without you,” Brendon muttered, not opening his eyes.

“Oh, Brendon, you should have come over then. You must be exhausted.”

Brendon nodded and felt himself slip farther into his drowsiness. Ryan was warm and calming and his loving touch made Brendon melt—there was no way he could've resisted sleep any longer. He was only vaguely aware of Ryan's fingertips removing the glasses from his face, and a kiss being planted to the top of his head.

Ryan stayed still long after Brendon had fallen asleep, and eventually dozed off like that, too, truly content with his lover in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's 2016 and I will keep writing Ryden.


End file.
